


Nothing for Me But

by super3000



Category: Leverage
Genre: Angst, But he is actually quite good at loving, Eliot has some insecurities, Eliot isn't good at feeling loved, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grossly self-indulgent, Hitter Hacker Thief, M/M, Multi, Not in the dirty way, Parker looooves donuts, Stealing things is more romantic, though that too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-21
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-14 04:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2178294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/super3000/pseuds/super3000
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few weeks ago I came across the prompt: "you’re safe as long as you don’t imagine your otp slow dancing to ‘the way you look tonight’ in their pjs in the kitchen of their new house at 3am with their heads resting on each other’s shoulders if you do imagine that then you’re ruined im sorry"</p><p>http://buckyhtml .tumblr. com/post/94477854184/youre-safe-as-long-as-you-dont-imagine-your-otp</p><p>It festered in my brain and ignited some of my many Leverage OT3 feels. The title comes from "The Way You Look Tonight," as does the line Parker quotes.</p><p>As always, this is unbeta'd and I welcome feedback! You can find my on tumblr under the same name, though I'm super boring lately because I've been INSANELY busy. Hope to be wasting time on the internet much more regularly soon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing for Me But

Eliot Spencer is both very good and very bad at romance. He’s good at romancing strangers in bars (and cafes and grocery stores and, well, just about anywhere). He’s good at moments full of tension and looks and breathless orgasms. He’s good at helping others with their grand romantic gestures. It’s just doing them himself when it matters that he’s never really wrapped his brain around. 

It’s not that he doesn’t try. He cooks for the people he cares about and he knows that Parker and Alec get that. Maybe it’s not that complicated a concept, but it’s been a long time since anyone’s cared enough to figure him out. It’s nice. 

Eliot’s survival has depended on reading people—how they feel, what their mood is—for more of his life than he’s interested in sharing about. He’s used to knowing what the people around him need. He likes taking care of things for Parker and Alec not because he has to, but because he wants them to be happy and have what they need.

But the only way he knows to do that is unseen. Sometimes, as much as he loves Parker and Alec, he thinks he was better as their friend who advised them on their relationship. Then at least he wasn’t shooting himself in the foot every time he helped one of them do something for the other. 

For Alec’s birthday, Eliot builds him an entertainment console so that he can surf the internet and watch videos and type code and whatever it is he does on the computer while he works out. Hardison’s more likely to keep himself in shape (and therefore safer) if he can do what he wants at the same time. But that’s for Eliot, to make him feel better. Hardison chuckles and teases him about how this is the only way he’ll ever be able to get Eliot to use a computer. Hardison uses it all the time, but not like Parker’s present—Parker took Eliot’s advice about doing something personal to heart and hacked one of Hardison’s video games so that he can play as tiny versions of the three of them. He loves it and spends hours sending them on quests and cajoling Eliot into growling out his character’s lines.

For Parker’s birthday, he and Alec set up a bungee jumping tour of some of her favorite sites. They jump together, each one holding the others’ hands. It’s really nice and Eliot’s proud of how happy it makes Parker, but he knows it’s really Alec’s present to her. Alec’s the one who hates heights but does them for Parker. Eliot had the idea, but he ends up feeling a tiny bit like he’s just along for the ride. 

For the one year anniversary of them being—them, Parker steals him a beautiful and expensive set of kitchen knives and a nearly worthless set of tools like the ones his daddy taught him on. Alec makes a tablet that responds to his voice and extrapolates meaning based on past use, so he doesn’t have to type or know exactly how to phrase what he’s trying to do. Eliot doesn’t get them anything.

That night he makes them dinner, just like he did the night before and the night before that. It’s not even a new recipe or either of their favorites, because Eliot had no idea this was an anniversary. He loved them long before they forced him to admit it and he’s sure he’s going to love them long after they leave him behind. So no, he had no idea they had been counting from that first “I love you,” that they were marking their calendars by him. 

They have a job to finish that day, so there isn’t time for anything special in the morning. Parker’s a little more cuddly than normal and Alec drags himself out of bed to make Nana’s Special Scrambled Eggs while Eliot takes his run, but they’re nice to him in general so it doesn’t raise any red flags.

The job goes well and they even get to see the mark’s face when he realizes he’s been got, which is always a pleasure. Afterward, Alec sets himself up in front of his computer to make sure they haven’t left any dangerous traces behind, Parker disappears into the bedroom with tape and scissors and a lot of cursing, and Eliot makes chicken. It’s normal, except the Parker thing. 

And then when she comes out from their room, Parker sits herself on one of his counters and talks to both of them, rather than leaving for a little thief-Parker time like she usually does after being mastermind-Parker for a while. Hardison’s being weird too, because he’s only working instead of playing a game or trolling a thread or any of the other internet things he normally has going in the background. He finishes quickly and comes to lean in the doorway to talk to Eliot and Parker. It’s nice. But it’s weird.

When the food’s ready, Eliot brings it out to the table to find that it’s set with their nice dishes, the ones that Sophie brought them from some manor house in some European estate where she and Nate played Robin Hood for a day or two. Eliot stops in his tracks and looks at Parker and Hardison. Hardison shrugs and says, “Thought it would nice to do a nice dinner tonight.” It’s unusual, but why not? They go out on dates, they should put in effort at home sometimes too.

Eliot sets out the food and they dig in, grateful and appreciative as always. Parker grins at him, closes her eyes like she’s playing a food taster again, and declares: “It makes me feel…like Eliot loves me.”

“That’s because I love you, darlin,’” Eliot says, because it’s obvious and because she deserves to hear it. She and Hardison both do.

“I know,” Parker says happily. “And you love Hardison.”

“And I love Hardison,” echoes Eliot.

“And we love you. Time for presents,” Parker says, and Eliot goes from comfortably ensconced in a nice moment they’ve had variations on a few hundred times to awkward and confused in about half a second. Hardison’s smiling and agreeing like he knows exactly what she’s talking about, so it’s not just a Parker thing. Eliot hates not knowing what’s happening. 

“What presents?” he asks, angrier than he means to. Parker ignores him because she’s already halfway to their bedroom. Hardison just grins at him. Parker bounces back out with three large packages in her arms. “What?” Eliot asks again.

It only gets worse from there. The tablet Alec made him is one of the most useful and thoughtful gifts Eliot has ever received. Parker’s presents make him catch his breath for a moment. They also have gifts for each other—Parker stole some very obscure and geeky computer thing for Hardison and he turned a very corrupt casino’s annual take into a pile of cash for her and a pile for the charitable organization of her choice. All of their gifts are perfect and Eliot didn’t even know it was an occasion. 

“I don’t—I didn’t know this was an anniversary,” he mutters without meeting either of their eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“When did you think our anniversary was?” Hardison asks, like he’s genuinely curious and doesn’t think Eliot’s a terrible lover. (Boyfriend. Whatever.) 

“Do we get two anniversaries a year if his is right too?” Parker asks. God, but he loves these two and he can’t figure out why they love him back. Not when he keeps messing up like this.

“I didn’t think about it,” he finally answers. He knows Parker and Alec’s anniversary by heart. He knows their birthdays. He knows what degree of pulp they each like in their orange juice, but he didn’t think of their anniversary with him, which is apparently also an anniversary between the two of them because it’s when they became the three of them and it’s one of the most important events in their lives. That’s how Parker explains it, gently, while she looks at Eliot like she thinks he’s hurt or something.

That night, Eliot blows Hardison, goes down on Parker until she comes for the fourth time and begs him to stop, then blows Hardison again and pulls off just in time for Alec to come on his face—Alec loves the visual of it, but he’s never even asked because he knows it makes Eliot uncomfortable. Afterwards, when his lovers are come-stupid and cuddled up to him, Eliot lays awake for a long time, then slips out for a long run. 

Parker wakes up like always when he gets out of bed, but like always she sees that it’s him and goes right back to sleep. There’s no clock in their room, so she’ll never know how early it is. Eliot swallows hard and kisses her on the forehead. She mumbles a bit and crowds closer to Hardison.

Eliot spends his run thinking of what he ought to have done for their anniversary. After, he showers in their second bathroom and gets to work on an elaborate breakfast. It’s the first time in a long time he doesn’t enjoy cooking, that it feels like an obligation. But it’s one thing he knows he can do right for them, and he has to do whatever he can.

Hardison wakes up early, like he always does when Eliot goes to the kitchen after his run instead of getting back into bed with them and a book. He whistles when he sees the spread Eliot’s got going, then plasters himself against Eliot’s back. Normally, Eliot grumbles and elbows Alec a bit and very carefully shifts his weight to ensure that Alec won’t have any chance of falling. Today, he says nothing. Alec makes a questioning noise, but seems soothed when Eliot starts humming and rocking ever so slightly to the beat.

Parker comes out—in one of Eliot’s shirts and a pair of Alec’s boxers—right as he’s plating up the food. He’s got the frittata they both like, Parker’s favorite fruit salad, Hardison’s favorite sausages, and a batch of homemade donuts. Plus, he’s put out the sugary cereal crap they both like, which he normally refuses to let them eat in front of him. 

And that’s what tips them off. Eliot’s lovers look at the laden table, they look at each other, and they turn to him, confused. Parker’s got a mix of her working-the-problem mastermind face and her wide eyed little girl face. Alec just looks lost and a little sick. He’s usually quicker to understand this kind of thing than Parker, and this is no exception.

“Eliot?” he asks, “Eliot, why are you trying to—Eliot, no.” Alec is babbling and shaking his head. Parker still looks lost.

“What is happening?” she asks them both. “You’re not leaving us, you love us,” Parker asserts. It’s not begging, it’s logic from her standpoint, colored with a little bit of anger and fear.

“No, sweetheart, I’m not leaving,” Eliot promises. “I love you both.” He does but he’s so bad at it; he doesn’t know how to show it. That’s the whole problem.

“Then why are you acting like we’re—like you have to—service us?”

Eliot is supposed to deny that that is what’s been happening. He’s supposed to tell Hardison that he’s being crazy and make Parker stop looking like that and fix this. Course, he’s also supposed to know their anniversary and be able to give them presents and show how much he loves them when it counts.

“What does that mean?” asks Parker. Neither of them answer her. She looks at them both, then the admittedly ridiculously full table, then their perfect presents to him, still on top of their wrappings on the sideboard. Eliot is forcing himself to look at her, so he sees her face as she understands what Alec is saying. It hurts worse than knowing he fucked up by inaction, because he was trying this time.

“Last night?” she asks, and Eliot thinks she means why is he trying so hard, why did he realize he’s shit at this, but Alec is nodding with his lips pressed into a line like he’s in serious pain. And then Parker’s hitting him in the chest again and again and he has no desire or instinct to fight back or even stop her. He just braces himself and takes it until Alec pulls them apart. “You can’t do that!” Parker yells at him. “You can’t treat yourself like you’re a thing for us! We don’t want that! I don’t treat people like that.” 

He hadn’t thought of it that way. He hadn’t thought of anything other than making them happy, proving that he loved them as much as he does. God, he can’t even do this part right.

Alec’s got his arms wrapped around Parker and he’s looking at Eliot like he’s broken. Eliot’s not broken, he’s just no good. He though they knew that. “Eliot, why?” Alec asks. Alec always has information, or at least a way to get it with a few taps of his keyboard and an orange soda. Not understanding is stealing his words and his little mannerisms—the way he tilts his head, the way he uses his hands when he speaks. 

Eliot knows it’ll only make things worse, but Alec is waiting for an explanation and if there’s one way he’s never failed them, it’s in telling the truth about the worst parts of himself when they ask. “I didn’t even know it was our anniversary. I didn’t think about us having one…I’m no good at being romantic,” he tells them.

“So the hell what?!” Hardison bursts out, and now he’s finally angry. Parker hasn’t made a sound since she stopped hitting him, but she’s starting to look like she gets it a little bit.

“You guys deserve romantic,” Eliot says. He doesn’t let himself shrug. He can control his body, if nothing else.

“You tell us you love us all the time,” Parker says. Eliot doesn’t understand the relevance, but he nods in agreement. “Is it not true?”

“Of course it’s true!” Eliot bites out. “I love you, but I’m no good at it. I’m sorry. I just wanted to try to—try!”

“Saying ‘I love you’ is romantic,” Parker informs him, “and you’re way better at that than I am.”

“You take us on dates and you help us be romantic for each other,” Hardison contributes. He’s finally getting a little looser, a little less wild-eyed. He wraps a hand around one of Parker’s and steps toward Eliot. “You love us and you cook for us and you do all sorts of sneaky things to make sure we’re safe and healthy.”

“And you think we don’t know that’s what you’re doing, which is really cute,” Parker says with a little smile. She takes a step forward and reaches out a hand for Eliot. He lets her take his hand.

“We love you, Eliot,” Hardison says, looking straight at him. “We love you and we like you and we think you’re good enough.”

Eliot has no response to that, but they’re waiting on one so he stretches out his arm and takes Alec’s hand. They look stupid standing in a circle holding hands, but Eliot’s always willing to look stupid for these two.

They throw away Eliot’s apology food (even the donuts, because Parker says they taste unhappy) and order in from three different places and stay in bed with food and movies and cuddling all day. There are no orgasms, because all three are still a little raw on that front. Eliot feels guilty about that, but Parker and Hardison are very determined about kissing and tickling that away. And, well, they are the best at what they do.

Eventually, they explain that part of the problem is the fact that they didn’t know anything was wrong, that they didn’t even see that he was in distress while he was pleasuring them. Then he mutters about how he’s no good at romance, he’s never been able to do it and he has to be good enough for them.

“But, you’re already better at loving people than us,” Parker says.

Hardison looks kind of embarrassed and nods. He looks past Eliot when he says: “You can’t use yourself to make us happy. You’re not incidental or whatever. I—did we let you feel that way?” Parker looks scared at the thought and Eliot pulls them both in close to them.

“No,” he says, shaking his head and inhaling the smell of Parker’s hair. She doesn’t use scented products because she’s a thief, but her hair always smells pleasant. (Well, not always—some jobs lead them to some pretty nasty places.) “No, it wasn’t you guys.” Eliot thinks maybe they all need to talk a little more and live in their own insecurities a little less. He hurt them because he didn’t feel good enough, and that’s probably not the most healthy reason to start changing, but it’s one he can use.

And after all of that, and some more cuddling and half watching the tv, Parker looks at her boys and says, “You're lovely, with your smile so warm, and your cheeks so soft, there is nothing for me but to love you,” because she’s developed a habit of speaking song lyrics. She likes it both when people get her references and when she makes a reference other people miss. 

Eliot starts humming the song, and then singing it softly when Alec pulls them both off the bed and wraps his arms around them. Parker tucks her head into Eliot’s neck and Eliot’s head is pressed to Hardison’s chest and they can’t do anything beyond sway together a bit, but it works for them and maybe that’s just what they need right now.


End file.
